Her hand tightens around me, her movements growing clumsy as she gets closer and closer to her breaking point. I circle my thumb over her center, and she cries out. "Yes, I like it. I like---all of it. Do more of that."
I curl my fingers into her and watch the shifting of her expression. The awe and relief and desperate need for more.
Nova is an open book when I'm touching her.
This is the kind of interrogation I should've done from the start. The second I walked through the door yesterday, I should've carried her to our bed. I could've stripped her of the truth in a matter of minutes.
There's no hiding when I have her like this.
She can't hide from me.
Worse... I can't hide from her.
But there's no turning back when I have her like this, either. She arches off the bed with a gasp,
